


if weasley is our king, then checkmate

by knees_of_bees



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Blaise Zabini, Bisexual Ron Weasley, Bromance, Café, Chess, Coming Out, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gay Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Lesbian Pansy Parkinson, M/M, POV Blaise Zabini, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-War, Romance, Slow Burn, Tea, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28626414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knees_of_bees/pseuds/knees_of_bees
Summary: in an attempt to get hermione and pansy together, blaise befriends ron. he plans to play a few games of chess and make ron his pawn ― he doesn't plan toactuallycare ― but even blaise's most levelheaded plans can be thwarted by dang human emotions.it starts with a spooful of angst, but this is really a feel-good piece.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson, Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini, Ron Weasley/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 11
Kudos: 131





	1. cold tea and warm hands

earl grey is for early mornings. add cream if it’s a cold day to make it a london fog, add sugar if you’re feeling down. black tea is for studying. citrus is for sun, coco is for frost, and cider is for rain. but no matter what hot drink filled it, blaise’s white teacup always wound up with a red lipstick smudge.

“gross,” said pansy, shoving it back at him. “way too strong.” 

he breathed a laugh through his nose and shifted under her legs, adjusting his textbook. they sat on the deep green couch in slytherin’s common room. shadows danced across the walls as the black lake pressed against smooth glass, and students trickled in and out quietly.

“draco should be here in…” pansy glanced down at her silver watch, “negative six minutes. merlin’s tits, why is he never around anymore?” 

she glanced at blaise, expression tight. neither of them wanted the answer. 

a year ago, he would have been draped across the both of them, gelled hair falling out of place, cologne just a smidge too strong, hand dramatically flung over his forehead as he whined about potter. one would think his slough of potter-related complaints might run dry, but to blaise’s dismay and pansy’s amusement, it never did.

cold crawled into all of their bones the summer after fifth year, though, when murders hit the papers and the dark mark spread like a virus. scared whispers swirled through the slytherins, and blaise got the sense that most of them didn’t know what side their own parents were on. it was a game of survival the kids didn’t know how to play. as for draco, he wouldn’t hold eye contact for more than a moment, wouldn’t laugh, would barely talk, and his wardrobe contained exclusively long sleeves.

he and pansy still had each other, though. if the only warmth left was in her hands, he’d be content to hold them. 

“well,” she said, “if draco’s not here, _you’ll_ have to play with my hair.”

“sure,” he said, shrugging and shutting his textbook. it was a miracle he’d made it this far with good marks what with the constant attention his friends demanded.

it was courser than he expected, but still soft. he trailed his fingers near her forehead, behind her ear, toward the nape of her neck, hitting cold air where her bob ended and then moving back again, finding a comfortable rhythm. “mm?” he asked.

“yes,” she sighed. “sheesh, if i’d known you were this good with your hands, i woulda had you step in for draco a long time ago.” she waggled her eyebrows at him. he smiled and shook his head, and she pressed into his side.

they stayed like that as shadows swallowed every surface in the room, sparing only their couch illuminated softly by a lamp.

“bedtime,” he said gently, and she reluctantly pulled herself up.

“goodnight, blaise.” she said, taking one last sip from his tea which had gone cold and wrinkling her nose.

“goodnight pansy,” he replied.


	2. not pansy

draco’s spot was empty again the next night, so pansy pressed closer against blaise’ side. she drew her knees up and snaked an arm across his torso.

when he was little, he wondered if they’d get married someday. but his mother cooed softly that love had no place in a marriage, so it couldn’t be pansy, the girl he picked flowers and snuck sweets with. 

she trailed her fingers up his arm and back down again, brushing her knuckles against the inside of his elbow, and he leaned into her touch.

when he stumbled into puberty, he wondered how her lips might fit against his. but what he had with her was more meaningful than snogging in dark corners and tugging at clothes under blankets, so not pansy. 

her hand slid down his forearm and she interlaced their fingers. squeezing lightly, she tilted her head so her lips pressed against the thin fabric of his tee shirt over his collarbone, and he squeezed her hand back.

he’d thought about it once or twice over the summer. he was thinking about it now. but pansy was so much more than a needy kiss or a desperate shag, so not pansy, right?

"is this okay?" he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"yes," she said, brushing her nose against his neck. "is this?"

"yes."

the last of the students slipped into the dorms, and darkness tiptoed around them.

“goodnight, blaise,” she whispered.

“goodnight, pansy,” he replied. but neither of them moved.


	3. don't cry

they woke up on that couch, sore limbs stretching under bright light, and after a day of classes and an evening of studying, they were curled up on it again.

“blaise?” pansy asked.

“hm?”

his soft hum hung in the darkness. 

“nevermind.” she turned to face him and brushed her nose against his cheek. their hands found each other. 

shifting her weight onto his leg, she dragged her other hand up his arm, sliding it behind his neck. cold fingers sent a shiver down his spine. her breath ghosted his lips and he leaned forward, their noses knocking together.

“do you want to kiss me?” he asked. 

a choked sob escaped her throat.

he pulled himself out from under her and moved away, letting go of her hand. “pans. i’m s― are you okay? did i― i’m sorry.”

she swiped away tears, not looking up at him. “i think i’m a lesbian.”

“oh.”

for a moment, the only sound was her sniffling.

“that’s okay,” he said. “you― that’s okay.”

“of course it is,” she said, somewhere between laughing and crying, “because anything i do is okay with you. you’re chill if i like you, you’re chill if i don’t, but i just want to be normal, why can’t i―”

“you are.” 

“shut up,” she said through tears. “i’m not. normal would be falling in love with a pureblood and getting married and having, like, three babies, but instead i’m over here thinking granger is hot as if that’s _okay―_ ”

“it is.”

“shut up!”

he did. she took a few shaky breaths and fell against his chest, clinging to his shirt and soaking the fabric. he tentatively put a hand on her back, and when she moved closer to him, he wrapped both arms around her. “tell me if you need space,” he started, but she cut him off.

“can we just stay here?”

“again?” he asked. “i mean, yeah, but your muscles might―”

“first of all, i don’t have muscles, second of all, i just... need to be held. and i don’t mind you holding me as long as it’s, like, cool with you that i really don’t want to kiss you.” 

“you’re my friend, pans, and that’s not gonna change.”

“i know,” she said. “goodnight, blaise.”

“goodnight, pansy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope my stylistic choice to write in all lowercase didn't dissolve your retinas or slaughter your brain cells too much. this has been part one!


	4. giuco piano: e4

the café music was barely audible over gentle chatter and clinking metal, but it hummed through the floor and reverberated in blaise’ shoes. he took a sip of black tea, staring at smooth white ceramic where a lipstick smudge should be, and moved a pawn. he played chess with himself often, but rarely in public. the soft social symphony was like a blanket.

his eyes wandered to a magazine on the small round table next to him. _next minister for magic?_ read the headline, and granger’s photo was plastered on the cover with a sharp blazer and wild curls. 

glancing out the window, he saw those same wild curls and recognized her hand in hand with weasley outside the café. the glass door swung open and she made for the corner with a book in hand. weasley got in line.

the trio had been rising in ranks since the war, and blaise could stand to be associated with them. weasley, who stood only a foot from him and happened to be brilliant at wizard chess, would presumably want nothing to do with him, which is exactly why he had nothing to lose by trying. 

leaning back, calculating his movements to appear relaxed and approachable, he tried to sound like an old acquaintance. “ron weasley.”

weasley turned to face him, looking lost for a moment before recognition clicked. “blaise zabini.”

“you play,” blaise said, guesturing to the chess board. it was a statement, not a question.

“what of it?”

“down for a quick game?”

sizing him up, weasley shook his head and shrugged. “why the bloody hell not?”


	5. e5

“giuco piano,” said weasley approvingly. “a nice soft, slow start.”

blaise hummed in agreement. “i like soft and slow.” he moved another piece. “you and granger. bit of a power couple.”

ron laughed, but there was something broken in the sound. something that fit the sad piano bridge over fuzzy speakers. “sure. she was the power, i was the couple. we aren’t a thing anymore though.”

so granger was single. pansy was single, too, and she had a thing for granger in school. blaise filed the information away. “but you were holding hands,” he said.

“yeah, well, women are confusing.” 

“people are confusing.”

ron glanced up from the chess board and looked him up and down. “amen to that.”

“what about you?” asked ron. “got a girlfriend?”

“nah.”

“why not? you’re attractive, for a bloke. i feel like you could get it.”

blaise breathed a laugh. “i mean, i _get it_ occasionally.” _but i don’t do romance,_ he thought. _feelings are messy so i use them sparingly. pansy, draco, theo; that’s it. and none of those people overlap in the sexual department. i’m not attracted to them like that. i was with pansy for a minute but she doesn’t swing that way, so, no. i don’t do romance, and I don’t ever plan to._

“wish i could say the same, mate,” said ron. “not since hermione.”

“not since hermione?”

“almost, once. at a club. didn’t feel right, though.” he laughed awkwardly. “sorry, sappy as all heck.”

“no, i get it.” he did.

blaise sipped his tea, heat sliding down his throat. he set down the cup and flexed his fingers, reminding himself that ron was a pawn, even if he was surprisingly easy to talk to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more to come! if u tell me ur thoughts i will love u forever.


	6. Nf3

scanning every passerby for ginger hair, he tapped fingers on the chess board, hoping ron would show up again. granger’s love life needed investigating and if there was anything blaise was good at, it was gathering intel.

finally, he was in the window with an armful of books and a snagged sweater alongside granger. blaise pretended not to notice when they walked in. 

ron got in line. seeing blaise, he shook his head and asked “game?” blaise shrugged and nodded.

dropping into the seat across from him and slamming hot cocoa onto the table, ron slid a pawn forward. “so where are your friends?”

“pansy’s trying to make it as a fashion designer. she works nights at a bar, though.” he pushed his own pawn forward. “draco’s a hot mess, but what’s new? i’m just glad he got his own flat.”

“not at the manor?”

“too many memories.”

ron laughed and nodded. “guess even baby devil boy has some trauma. so, what, he was living with you?”

“roommates, yeah.” blaise paused, thought. “brought home a new boy every other night,” he added.

“a _boy?_ ”

blaise scanned ron’s face, trying to read his reaction.

“huh. should’a guessed, with the hair gel.”

merlin, way to stereotype. “he was deep in the closet all through school.”

“well, glad he’s figuring himself out.” he moved his knight. “no, i’m not, prick can die in a hole.”

a genuine laugh escaped blaise. “what about you?” he asked. “have any figuring out to do after everything?

“me? no. like i said, just her.”

blaise glanced over at granger. her nose was deep in a book, knees pulled up onto her chair. “and what about her?”

“hermione? she’s straight. i mean, i think she’s straight, she dated me. i don’t know, actually. guess i never asked.”

this wasn’t a lost cause, then. ron didn’t have much of use, but at least she wasn’t confirmed to be straight. pansy had a sliver of a chance.

ron was twirling his mug, laughing nervously. “maybe i turned her gay, who knows?”

blaise moved another piece, hoping that focusing on the game would center ron. he didn’t like seeing him so uncertain.


	7. Nc6

“this is quaint,” said pansy, silhouette sharp against mist out the window. “not as modern as my tastes prefer, but it has a nice atmosphere.” she took out a sketchbook and the soft scratch of pencil mingled with the noise of the café. “what,” she asked, “you gonna play chess with yourself?”

“someone’s probably going to come join me.”

“mm,” she hummed, pencil swooping across the page and creating the waistline of a figure.

“ronald weasley.”

her head snapped up. _”what?”_

“and odds are he’ll bring along hermione granger.”

eyes widening, her dark lashes reached toward her brow bone. “blaise.”

“you’re going to hover while we play chess, i’m going to suggest you go bug granger, and you can head over there with that excuse and see if she’ll engage in conversation with you or, at the very least, allow you into her space. which is over there in the corner, by the way.”

“blaise, what are you doing?”

he reached for her hand and squeezed it lightly. “you’re always telling me to live a little.”

“are you trying to set me up with—“

granger and weasley walked in. she glared at blaise, digging her nails in before pulling her hand away.

ron’s jaw tightened when he saw pansy. he didn’t address them, not until he’d ordered drinks, slid into his seat, and shoved a pawn forward.

“how’s fashion design going, parkinson? do you make t-shirts with anti-muggleborn slogans?”

“lovely seeing you too, ronald,” she said icily, pushing her chair back with a screech and walking to granger’s corner.

it wasn’t how blaise had planned it, but effective nonetheless, as granger stood and addressed pansy. it was up to fate now.

ron scoffed, going back to the game. “i forgot how much i don’t like you people. why are we still playing, anyway?” 

“because i just took your rook,” blaise said, hoping ron didn’t mean that, “and you need to get back at me.”

“damn right i do,” said ron to blaise’s relief.

they played in silence for a bit until both of their eyes wandered to the corner where pansy and hermione sat having a seemingly civil conversation.

“ah great,” said ron, “look what you’ve done. should we throw malfoy and harry together next?”

blaise laughed. “i don’t know if draco would love me or hate me for that.”

“love you?” asked ron, and blaise realized his mistake. “oh don’t tell me… he likes blokes, yeah? don’t tell me…”

blaise just looked at him, which was enough confirmation for ron, who retched. “that’s disgusting.” 

looking back at the board, though, his expression quickly shifted to glee. “your bishop or your knight, which will it be?”


	8. Bc4

ron flung the glass door open and nearly sprinted to blaise. “i may have told harry.”

“oh shit.” he’d worried about this happening.

“oh shit is right, blaise. he laughed, told me i was crazy, and swore a bunch. i think he went to go find him. i haven’t been able to get ahold of him yet today, so i hope your friend is still alive. well, i hope he’s dead in that hole, but you get the gist.”

blaise. he’d called him blaise. “rest in peace, draco.”

“the world will be a better place without you.”

“calmer, that’s for sure.”

“your death was the greatest gift you could give us.”

“so giving,” added blaise.

he looked to the corner where pansy and hermione sat. they were talking, pansy’s hand on the table, and hermione put her hand over pansy’s.

ron followed his gaze. “doesn’t mean anything. she holds my hand all the time. hugs me really tight, sometimes still kisses me on the cheek. but she says she doesn’t feel, like, attracted anymore so, i don’t know. it’s confusing as hell, man.”

blaise nodded, trying to convey the extent of the empathy he felt in that small movement. “i guess there’s deeply caring about someone, and there’s sexual attraction, and sometimes they overlap and sometimes they don’t. and physical affection can go with either or both, you know?”

“sure. i just— how do you know when someone’s coming onto you, then? if that’s not guaranteed flirting, what is?”

he shook his head. he didn’t have an answer. “chess,” he said sarcastically.

ron laughed. “watch out, zabini here to sweep ronald off his damn _feet._ ”

“i’ll sweep your bishop off his feet if you’re not careful,” blaise chuckled.

“ha, that’s what i wanted you to go for. i’ll take your queen, please and thank you.”

“damn it. you’re good at this game.”

“i know, it’s the one thing i’m good at.”

blaise looked at ron, whose brows were drawn together as he studied the board, soft hair falling over a forehead covered in freckles. did he really not see his analytical mind? his personability? his humor? the guy didn’t have nearly enough confidence.

ron glanced up at the corner and his eyebrows shot up. blaise followed his gaze. pansy and hermione were kissing. finger’s intertwined, leaning across the table, _kissing._

elation rose in blaise’s chest for his friend, but it crash landed when he remembered the person sitting across from him. 

ron laughed, fingers threading through his hair.

“hey man,” said blaise.

“no, it’s cool, I’m glad that… it’s cool.”

they sat in silence for a moment, blaise unsure of how to comfort him. the hot cocoa mug was empty, so blaise picked it up and went to get a refill, and when he came back, there was a sad sort of acceptance on ron’s face.


	9. Bc5

not even his scalding tea could ground him back into reality; this was surreal. he buzzed with the need to tell ron, but when ron swung around the corner and into the café, he looked like _he_ had something to say. 

“draco and harry—“ started blaise.

“banged,” finished ron, who then dissolved into laughter.

his grin was radiant, eyes sparkling as he nearly teared up, and blaise snickered. it caught him off guard, as his genuine laughs were so few and far between. 

ron shook his head, laughter tapering off. “i’m gonna end them both.”

blaise didn’t want to kill the smile on his face but he felt obligated to tell him. “pansy and hermione are with each other right now. i don’t know where, but—“

“yeah.” there was sadness in his eyes, but there was warmth too. “i don’t know why the hell she chose parkinson, but I think this is good for her.”

a knot unraveled in blaise’s chest knowing that ron was alright, though he couldn’t figured out why he cared. 

ron nudged his arm. “now all that’s left is for you and me to hook up.”

blaise breathed a laugh through his nose.

they moved pieces across the board as steam swirled from their cups. “checkmate,” said ron.

he explained that he got a promotion and wouldn’t be around during their unofficial time slots. it was a convenient opportunity to end it, to let this brief acquaintanceship die off, and yet blaise hesitated. 

“there’s a restaurant closer to the ministry,” he heard himself say. “good drinks, nice atmosphere, open late.”

“yeah,” said ron, a grin sneaking onto his face. “yeah, mate, see you there.”


	10. checkmate

## 4 months later…

pansy was draped across the couch at grimmauld place, head in hermione’s lap. hermione’s book sunk slowly until it accidentally bumped pansy’s nose, snapped back up, and started sinking all over again.

“quit eating the food before i get the chance to serve it!” snapped draco. harry popped an olive into his mouth in response. 

blaise’ fingers were intertwined with ron’s, who was pressed against his side, offering constant social commentary and poking light fun at the lot of them. 

earl grey is for early mornings, black tea is for chess, and cider is for rain. but none made his chest feel so warm as this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is far sweeter than I anticipated. perhaps verging on saccharine, but maybe we can use a little sweet. since we can’t currently go to cafés or have social gatherings, I hope you can live vicariously through this, and no matter where you’re at, know there are times in your life where your chest will feel warm.
> 
> merry inauguration!


End file.
